


Lucky

by darlindear



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sibling Incest, drakecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlindear/pseuds/darlindear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anon asked for: Drakecest with Sam bringing the puppy (that Victor bought Nathan) to Nate and then getting a little jealous because the puppy gets way more attention than him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> repost from my tumblr @trashdrakes. stop by and leave a request if you'd like!

Four months feels like an eternity to Sam, though in comparison to his thirteen years in prison it’s a cake walk. Still, the empty pit of his stomach, the hollowed out soul of him, feels like those four months couldn’t have been any worse than his stint in Panama.

It’s completely illogical to feel that way, especially considering _he_ is the one who chose to leave with Victor, and _he_ is the one who hadn’t kept up much contact with Nathan. Victor had taken the reins on that one as soon as they’d left, apparently not wanting another two years to pass between the two of them.

It’s nice to know that someone has his little brother’s back when Sam can’t be there, when Sam can’t allow himself to be there.

Four months without speaking isn’t exactly how Sam had planned on leaving it with Nathan. At first he had just been enjoying his actual fully found freedom, then the week had passed and Sam found himself thinking more and more of his little brother. He went from missing to thinking to downright _pining_ , and fuck all if that hadn’t scared Sam shitless.

It suddenly felt like he was back in that prison cell, not knowing if Nathan was alright, or even if he’d gotten out alive with Rafe.

It became an (gut wrenching, physically painful) easy decision after that, to go back to New Orleans. Sullivan had dropped him off, promising to come pick him back up in a few weeks. On one condition ...

“Stop wigglin’ ya mutt, we’ll be in soon.”

How this became his life, Sam will never know. He knocks on the door anyway, and is still wrangling the puppy into submission when it’s answered.

Nathan’s standing there, slightly too big sweatpants hanging low on his hips, looking for all the world like Sam had just committed a heinous crime by making him answer the door.

“Uh, mornin’?” Sam curses himself, not realizing that they’d traveled all night and it was probably ass o’clock in the a.m. Nate blinks for a long moment, takes a minute to come back to himself.

“Why the hell do you have a dog?” Nathan steps back into his house, but his arms immediately extend, hands grabbing for the puppy in Sam’s clutches. He hands it over without a fuss.

***

Sam hates the dog.

With a passion.

It’s all Nathan ever talks about, ever thinks about, even.

‘Vic this, Vic that, taking Vic for a walk, buying Vic some new toys.’ It’s like Sam doesn’t even exist, and to be honest, it’s really starting to get on his damn nerves.

Nathan’s sitting in the floor, the pup in his lap, as Sam walks in. He doesn’t look up from the fur he’s brushing out and Sam prickles.

“Hungry? I could make some lunch for us, if you want.” He’s standing right in front of Nathan and he still doesn’t get much of an answer. A noncommittal, ‘yeah, sure’ and suddenly Sam can’t take it anymore.

With a quick motion he’s grabbing the pup from Nathan’s hands, holding him just out of reach, ignoring his brother’s squawk of protest.

“Actually, I’m gonna take Vic here out for a walk. Make your own lunch.”

With that he’s storming out of the room, leash in one hand, the other gently cradling the pup to his chest. He’ll just have to give Nathan some of his own damn medicine.

***

Two days and Nathan’s already cracked like an egg. Sam can see it in the glances they throw at each other, can see the way Nathan begins to glare at the pup when it’s in Sam’s arms and pout when he’s ignored.

It’s not even a surprise when Nathan flops down on him in the middle of the movie they’re watching, head resting against Sam’s thigh, fingers gently curled into the fabric at Sam’s knee.

“Where’s Vic?” It’s only slightly pouty, Sam’s impressed.

“Taking a nap in your bed.” His hand comes to rest, tentatively, against Nathan’s crown. The younger Drake sighs, eyelids drooping.

“Guess I get to be the puppy for now, huh?” Nathan’s question obviously stems from the petting, but Sam just scritches him behind the ear in return, smiling softly.

“Mhmm. Now be a good boy and get some rest, huh?”

Sam pretends he doesn’t hear the sharp intake of breath, doesn’t feel the shudder that runs through Nathan.

He’s still smiling thirty minutes later, hand moving gently in his younger brother’s hair as Nathan drifts off to sleep.


End file.
